


Torchwood: Resurrection

by TorchwoodTimelord (SherlockMalfoy)



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: AU After Children of Earth, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Version - The End of Time (parts 1 and 2), Gen, Knitting Jack Harkness, Torchwood rebuilt, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/TorchwoodTimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July, 2009 aliens made contact with Earth. They came to be called after the frequency their transmissions were broadcast on, 456. These creatures demanded 10% of the Earth’s children. A man named Captain Jack Harkness and his Torchwood team stopped them, paying the ultimate price. In the aftermath, Gwen Cooper, the only remaining Torchwood operative moved to London with her husband Rhys to live in obscurity. In the twenty-five years that follow, Earth has become home to human and alien life alike. Now, Earth is threatened once again, and a new team of misfits rise up to defend her… Now if only they can figure out what to do with the naked man who tumbled out of the Cardiff Rift.</p>
<p>Universe Changes<br/>Torchwood - AU after "Children of Earth"<br/>Doctor Who - Alternate Version: The end of Time Parts 1 and 2<br/>(Fic originally posted on fanfiction.net under same title. This is a rewrite by original author.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rain.

Growing up as she did in London, the young woman had loved to stretch out on her bed and watch the afternoon showers through her window. Though now, trudging through it with little more than her coat to keep her warm, she was beginning to loath this part of her job. Rain or shine, it must be done. She much preferred shine at the moment as her toes squelched in her shoes with each step. It was a slight distraction, enough to be annoying at any rate, as she swept her torch light across the street. She shined the light from one side to the other and back again.

She hated patrol duty.

She wiped at her face, a futile attempt to dry it as the rain came down. Glancing ahead, she saw her partner. His head was down, but she knew the expression which must have been on his face. So long as he had his gadgets not even this monsoon could get him down.

"How much further to the checkpoint?" she called out to him. "I'm swimming in these boots!" She watched as his shoulders rolled up, then down. "Did you hear me?"

Her question was met with another shrug as he began to slow his pace, allowing her to gain on him before he came to a complete stop.

"I asked-"

"I heard you," he said, motioning to the device wrapped in cellophane in his hands. "I got caught up in checking the PRM. There's a significant energy spike nearby. I was considering the best way to approach you about it before your nagging broke my train of thought."

She rolled her eyes, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. The action gave off a small slapping sound as wet skin met slick leather. "How much further? I'm soaked to the bone out here."

He nodded, then glanced at their surroundings. She noticed his shifting gaze and swept the torch over the empty street again. Nothing, as expected. As hoped for. "Eddie, mind if we huddle on a stoop for a bit?" she asked, looking hopeful. Once again he nodded, then indicated a nearby doorway in which they could seek refuge. He allowed her to go first, then joined her as he cradled the device in his hand. Instinctively she leaned closer, their shoulders touching in the small shelter of the overhang. "We should check this out," he said, holding up the device for her to see the LED screen. "The signal is getting stronger. It could present a problem. It we get to it now chance are we can nip it in the bud."

"Or, and this is just a suggestion," she said, wiping at her face again to brush the stray black locks off her forehead. "We can leave it be for now just in case whatever's causing it will rip out faces off and wear them as party masks."

His young face pulled into a grimace that made him look over ten years older. His disdain for the gory details was one this former Inspector enjoyed exploiting at every opportunity. Compared to the horrific scenes they usually came across during a sweep, it actually sounded like a bit of good natured fun. That is, if one enjoyed having their face forcefully removed and worn as a party mask. While the risk of dismemberment was a very real possibility, the promise of treasures to add to the collection back at the office was very persuasive. Even if just one of many reasons for the energy readings.

He looked down at her in a small pout, doing his best to make his big brown eyes seem even bigger and sadder than usual. She knew then she'd lost the argument before it had even begun. "Alright," she said at last with a sigh. "Send a call in to the office. Let the boys know we're going to be running late tonight."

If she was going to be dragged into another wild goose chase, she might as well make it seem like she was doing it under protest. Part of her swore and cursed the weather as she stepped back into the heavy downpour. But at the same time she could feel the chill of the night's rain retreating as the surge of adrenaline began to pound through her system. Her heartbeat was already in her ears as her partner joined her side, indicating the direction of the energy spike.

The pair of them broke into a light jog, but soon their feet slammed wet pavement and dirt as they ran full pelt against the rain. The anticipation of a possible sudden, but remarkable death awaited them at their destination.

_**o0o** _

It was a solid eight minutes before the duo managed to reach the area indicated on Eddie's personal rift monitor (PRM). It wasn't far off their normal sweep route, but still a bit of an inconvenience. They'd come to a stop at the fence of what had once been a bustling shopping centre. Now it was little more than a steel reinforced tomb. A sanctuary to the unwashed and inhuman alike.

Eddie sighed as he looked up from his device. "This is it. The signals still here. Pulsing from... It looks like the top floor." He changed the settings on his monitor, holding it up to scan the building on the opposite side of the fence. Quickly blueprints mapped themselves out on his screen. "Blueprints show it to be the food court." He pocketed the device and felt in his pocket for his sidearm.

She nodded towards the building, holding open the chain-link fence she'd managed to cut with her multi-tool. It had been slow going, but the hole in the fence was just big enough for the pair of them to squeeze through. "Ready?"

"Whatever is in there, it's weak. The PRM started picking up a lower reading before I stowed it," he said. "Usual suspects might be skulking about inside. Be ready for anything."

She gave her best reassuring smile. He had seen that look so many times before on similar nights like this, and not once did it bode well for either of them. She clapped a hand on his leather clad shoulder. "Come on then. Time to save the world," she said, adding sarcastically, "Again." Eddie followed her through the gap in the fence as they crept in the dark of night towards their possible certain doom... or potential large score.

Torch in one hand, she led the way towards the hellhole that had once easily pried the hard earned money from unsuspecting shoppers. Twenty years ago it had been a thriving centre of commerce. But as they entered the condemned shopping mall a sense of dread began to take hold on her. Despite this, she pressed on, ignoring her instincts and chalking it up to the usual anticipation of the unknown.

Out of the wet, she reached into her coat and pulled her sidearm. A bulky antique weapon that had served her well over the years. Her partner Eddie grasped one end of what she considered a laser peashooter compared to the modified Beretta M9 in her own hand. A solid, sturdy and reliable weapon that didn't rely on fuel cells. As she disengaged the safety, she appreciated the simplicity of antique savagery over the high-brow advancements of technology.

And if whatever lay waiting for them chose to make for her jugular, a bullet was more likely to put the bastard down for good than a short laser pulse ever would.

"I can hardly see in here," Eddie hissed behind her.

She rolled her eyes. "Didn't you bring your specs?" she asked.

"Well, no. It's not like I have bottomless pockets," he replied as they passed a broken window display. The mannequin cracked and broken, hanging halfway out of the space where glass should have held it back. He reached into his pocket and removed the PRM again, checking the blueprints. He searched for the shortest route between them and their goal, the flashing dot one floor above.

_**o0o** _

They had wandered in the dark for the better part of the night. Searching shop by shop and nook by nook for signs of life. Instead they found only the stench of mold and decay. Eddie had taken the lead, using his device to map out a safe route to what the blueprints called the food court. They had already been forced to retrace their steps and circle around obstacles that looked as if they were freshly made, with passages so narrow neither agent could fit through.

Eventually Eddie stopped and put his arm out to stop his partner. She cast the torch around, trying to catch her bearings before shining it on what lay ahead. "Is this the only way up?"

"The only way closest to where we're going."

"How close?" she asked as she turned to stand with her back pressed against his, sweeping the beam over the path they had come down. Broken tile made what was once a pristine and smooth floor look like a rocky and twisted terrain. She was thankful she hadn't worn her good shoes for this shift after all.

He bit his lip, a nervous tick he could never break himself of. "I'm updating the map now," he replied.

She paused the torch beam a moment before casting it back to the left. She swore she had seen something move. Something pale, but she could not be certain. "You might want to hurry up," she said. "We're not alone."

He nodded, tapping something out. "It looks like we're just below the Victoria Secret."

"Great," she said, trying to keep her voice even. Sarcasm, even if badly timed, had always helped to keep her wits about her. "Don't you go sauntering off to have a look in the changing rooms."

She heard a nervous laugh from behind her, but felt his shoulders shake as he tried to suppress it. "Got any idea for an escape plan?" she asked as he started up the broken escalator before them.

He chewed his lip again and nodded, not that she could see it. "It's not the best plan, but for a quick run..."

She knew where he was going. She had been thinking the same as they had explored the dark caverns of the shopping centre. They wouldn't have time, she knew, to backtrack the way they had come. They would need the most direct, most simple route possible. "If we have to jump," she said. "I'm shoving you out first"

"Just try to aim for the ground and not me when you follow," he said back dryly as she backed up the escalator behind him. Slowly they progressed to the landing above. He felt a hand on his forearm once they were at the top, and he pocketed the device. His voice was low when he spoke next. "Twenty paces left, then turn right and it should be, barring debris, a straight shot along the side of the eatery."

"And to get back out?" she whispered back.

"The plans show an emergency exit near the loo, midway down our route. A wall of windows at the far side."

She nodded and gave his forearm a light squeeze to indicate her understanding. Then, she took the first cautious step. Her heart was beating miles a minute. Her senses heightened from the overload of adrenaline pumping through her blood. She was aware of the quickness of her own breaths, and the weight of the acrid air on her face and neck. She turned right after approximately twenty paces and cast the torch light along the wall of their chosen path.

As she took the next step, a large body shoved her against the dust caked counter of a former eatery. When her side connected with the wood she dropped the light. It rolled, spinning out of control as Eddie wrestled in the moving beams of light with the snarling beast that had assailed them. Regaining her bearings she planted her feet firmly, her trigger finger poised to pull back and pump a round into the monster. However, she didn't know if she would have a clear enough shot. Not with the light strobbing the way it was.

The light at last came to a stop as she heard a wail before the scent of burning flesh assaulted her senses. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as electricity pulsed through the air. A hard thud followed by a hand on her shoulder, squeezing as her partner gasped for breath.

She froze.

"It's me," Eddie wheezed, "You alright?"

She nodded slowly. "Just a bruise. You?"

He drew in a ragged breath. "Same," he replied.

"Was that-"

"Just the usual. One nasty weevil," he said. His hazel eyes cut to the beam of light. It had come to rest through a narrow passage. Boxes, chairs, tables. Anything that could be moved had been, and constructed into some sort of makeshift wall. It looked to him as if something had torn through, widening a passage that seemed to have been meticulously shaped. Beyond, he could see creatures. Snarling and gnashing at the air as they grappled with the same sort that had attacked them.

It would only be a matter of time before they noticed the human intruders "But something came through here. Looks like we're not the first to notice"

He left her side to retrieve the torch, but stopped at the sound of his partner's voice. "Leave it," she hissed. "Bring any Flashers with you?"

Nodding, he reached into his coat pocket, pulling a small egg shaped item and a pair of goggles out. The goggles he pulled on over his head as she searched her own pockets for a pair. After she had them secured to her eyes, she gripped her Beretta with both hands. "Toss it and run like hell across. We didn't come this far to go back home empty handed. What else have you got on you?"

"Two standard flashers, and a UV flare."

"Good. Save the UVF for last, just in case." Then, she gave a nod he could barely make out through the goggles. Together the pair of them edged up to the opening in the passage, their backs pressed against the makeshift wall.

Eddie brought the egg shaped object to his lips, giving it a light kiss before smashing his thumb against a button at the top. A flashing band of red lit up, pulsing slowly before picking up speed and becoming a steady light. "On three," he said softly.

She nodded back to him with a smile before he pivoted into the passageway, throwing the egg into the chaos. Panic overtook him for a few seconds as he thought the flasher may not go off. He may have just tossed in a dud. But his fears were proven premature as bright, blinding light exploded up from the floor, scattering the monsters in shock and surprise.

The weevils howled, cowering back in sudden shock as the others, the pale creatures screamed. Their wails so high a pitch it shook the walls that had been built up of debris. The woman pushed past her partner, firing her sidearm at any creature, weevil or otherwise, that came across her path. "Come on!" she shouted. "Not much time!" Eddie followed, his pulsar pistol clutched tightly in his hand as he fished the PRM from his pocket.

"Straight ahead!" he shouted over the sound of semi-automatic gunfire.

The light began to subside as they came to a stop at the far end, closer now to the wall of glass. "Shit!" she snapped angrily. "Where is it?!" She spun around to look at her partner as he fumbled with the device, then reached out and shoved him down, barking an order for him to duck. He crouched low as she moved to stand between him and a creature that had come far too close for her liking. Eddie swept the immediate area with the PRM before tugging on her pant leg. "There!" he shouted, pointing to a stack of tables and chairs. There was a small opening. "It's in there!"

"Then go get it before you get us both killed!"

He made his way towards the pile, keeping low. She crept along beside him, providing cover fire as the weevils began to close in on them. One of the other, stranger creatures came closer before being swept down by a snarling dung eating beast. Eddie slipped out of sight into the cover of the furniture pile. Another egg rolled out of the darkness inside, and within seconds another flash bomb went off.

She moved quickly, putting her back to the opening at the pile and reloaded. "Well?!"

"You're gonna kill me!" her partner shouted back at her.

"No, the monsters will kill you. I'll be scraping your guys up off the floor! Now get it so we can get the hell out of here!" She picked off another creature.

"I can't move it!"

"Why the bloody hell not?!"

"It's a man!"

She picked off a few more before acknowledging what she'd just heard. Or, what she thought she'd just heard. "What?!"

"He's injured. We can't just leave him!"

"For Christ's sake!" she shouted, squeezing off a few more rounds before crouching down to get a good look inside the pile. There Eddie knelt beside the prone, and very naked figure, of a man. "Fuck." She reached up and tapped an earpiece. "Calling base, we've got a situation here!"

_"I know,"_ came a surprised American voice. _"I've been monitoring since Eddie checked in. The reading's off the scale. What did you and-"_

"We're pinned, Quin, we need backup!" She fired another round. The weevil spun, falling to the floor before the body was quickly dragged beneath a table and out of sight. "NOW!" she shouted.

_"Can you abandon the artifact?"_

"Speak up, it's a real party out here!"

_"Can you abandon the artifact?”_

"No, it's-" She was knocked off her feet, landing on her back with a crack. Her trusty Beretta skidding across the floor into the shadows, into the unknown where the vicious pale creatures lurked. The force of the fall pushed the air from her lungs, causing her to take in a large breath of putrid smelling air. She covered her face in futility fully expecting to have one of the weevils, or the other creatures, upon her. But the attack never came. They were far too interesting in one another to pay her much mind. Not with so much blood already scenting the air.

The second flasher was fading.

"In here! Quick!" she heard her partner shout as Quin's sharp voice called desperately in her ear. Rolling over she crawled on her stomach to the pseudo-safety of the furniture pile.

_"Mattie? Mattie are you there?!"_

She pressed her back against the wall, her chest heaving as she tried to control her breathing. She tried not to choke on the mixture of blood and feces in the air.

_"Matilda!"_

"I'm here," she managed to choke out. "Situation from bad to worse. Lost my sidearm. Down to one flasher. We've got a John Doe down." She felt Eddie's hand on her arm as she tried not to choke.

"How's it look out there?"

She shook her head. "No way out. It's a slaughterhouse out there."

"I've run the blueprints again. I can't be a hundred percent sure, but the structural integrity of this level may be compromised by a combination of water erosion and-"

"Lot of good that does us. We've got no charges, no guns, and a dead fish," she said, her breathing slowing for a moment. But her heartbeat was a constant drum in her head. "Cut our losses and run for it. Let 'em have the bloke."

_"Eddie, see if you can send me the data you've collected. I may be able to triangulate your coordinates and jump you to a nearby location."_

"Too risky," Eddie replied over the coms link, and his partner could hear the doubt in his voice. "We could end up stuck in a wall. Or sticking out of the street. Without a proper checkpoint, we can't be sure where we'll end up. And with the spike source..."

"It's the only chance we've got," she said, though she would rather follow her plan of cutting losses. "If we're going to do this, we need to do it soon before we're put on the menu. Those things out there are eating the weevils."

Eddie worked quickly. "Data packet on it's way. Hang on." She could tell by his tone he was worried. If it had been him making the suggestion she wouldn't think twice about agreeing to it. He was, after all, the resident genius. Whereas Quin, though good with computes, was far better with the mundane office appliances.

"No, seriously. Hang on. If we separate he might scramble us beyond recognition," he said.

The pile above them began to shake. From the corner of her eye she could see the last sputtering bursts of the flasher fading into darkness. Feeling around in the dark she found a hand. Cold and rough. If she weren't so afraid for her life, she'd swear it was the hand of a dead man.

Quin's voice buzzed in her ear again. He was rattling off readings. Numbers and large words she didn't feel the need to understand. Not that she didn't, mind, but her head was killing her now. A combination of the night's action and the possibility of death no matter if it was friendly accident or weevil attack was not a good prospect. The commentary in her ear was arbitrary, meant only to distract her and her partner from the sensations that began running through their bodies.

She felt the nausea first, then tasted the bile. Jumping at a checkpoint was never a pleasant experience under normal circumstances, but at least then it was safe. There were programs and procedures in place to protect her. This.. this was beyond unpleasant. This was the epitome of absolute misery. Given her history, she should know. She had plenty to use for comparison.

Clenching her eyes shut as the makeshift shelter began to fall around them she clutched to the cold hand in her own. She heard Eddie's voice as he groaned. She'd once had her eyes open during this. They were testing out the jumpers before linking them to the checkpoints. She didn't like what she'd seen.

It was nothing like the transporter beams on _**Star Trek**_ , no matter how many times Eddie and Quin had tried to reassure her.

After a few moments, what felt like an eternity, she felt the sickness in her gut recede. There was nothing beneath her. Nothing around her. Sound was little more than a whisper on the wind. She did, however, still feel the hand in hers. But it was different somehow. Warmer than before. It was only a slight temperature change, she realized, and most likely a side effect of the transporter jump.

Just when she felt at peace, in perfect harmony in the non-space, the sickness rushed upon her again. She fell with a thud on the hard, flat ground. A splash, no longer a whisper of sound was a cacophony of noise. She let go of the hand she clung to and leaned to her right. One hand pressed against the wet cement at the base of the puddle, the other holding her stomach as her mouth opened and a vile, mostly liquid substance forced it's way out.

She heard Eddie yelp as an unfamiliar sound came to her ears. It was a gasp, followed by a long groan. But she ignored it as she continued to suffer the after effects of a jump without a proper landing point. Eddie, on the other hand, was holding his side beneath his coat as he staggered to his feet.

_"Matilda? Edward? Do you read me?"_

Neither gave a response. Not at first. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she finally opened her eyes and stared down at the diluted mess circling around her wrist. She was able to identify the Chinese take-away she'd eaten for dinner before hitting the streets for patrol with Eddie. Making a mental note to never order shrimp fried rice again, she drew in a deep breath. The air stung her throat, having been coated in stomach acid from her vomiting. A slow exhale, then another deep breath, hoping to clear both her lungs and her head. "That was a close one," she said, her voice hoarse and raw.

Eddie nodded, looking down at their third wheel who had stopped groaning and fallen into a deep sleep. "One thing's for sure," he said, trying to find a bit of humor. "Jack's going to have a field day with this one. He'll never let us forget the naked man what came from the Rift."

She laughed as she stood, wincing. That was one hard landing. Now that the action was over her body was feeling ever knock and blow. "It was your idea," she replied, rubbing her throat as she looked down at the sleeping man. She studied him, looking over as if he were merely another piece of exotic driftwood from he far reaches of the universe.

"Where are we, anyway?" Eddie asked as he finally took a look at their surroundings. "This doesn't look like our usual sweep area."

_"It's not. You're in Splott."_

"....Splott?..." She looked away from the naked man laying on the wet pavement to look around. It was indeed Splott. A very familiar little patch of it, too. "Quin, why is it ALWAYS Splott with these things?! Every time they malfunction we end up in the arse end of nowhere!"

_"It's not my fault. Eddie programmed them... Speaking of, we may have burned out the power cells."_

"Great.. That's all we need. More broken toys and a Rift streaker," Matilda mumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest with a groan. "You ARE coming to get us, right?"


	2. Chapter 2

Twenty minutes.

From previous experience she knew it never took any member of the team that long to get to Splott. They had frequently been dumped there, or had any number of things happen in that particular area of Cardiff often enough to know down to the second how long each particular driver took to reach Splott. For her personally the record was fifteen minutes in bad traffic. For Eddie and Jack, it was almost as if the two were trying to break one another's record for some imaginary special badge of honor.

Certainly, this was the longest it had ever taken Quin to reach them. After all he knew the city better than anyone else, save for her partner of course. That man's brain, she had assumed, must literally be a sponge for all of the information it soaked up.

They heard the roar or an engine before seeing the white van barreling down the road towards them. It came to a stop with a screech and the fresh smell of burned rubber. She and her partner lugged the body between them towards the back end of the van just as the doors were flung open.

"Leave it for me," came that same American voice that had buzzed in their ears earlier in the evening. Matilda didn't bother to argue with or look at the man pulling on gloves to do the work for them. Instead, she went to the front passenger door, pulling it open before Eddie tapped her on the shoulder.

"You're jumper," he said when she turned to look tiredly at him. "I'll crack it open on the way. Try to fix it."

"With field kit?"

He shrugged. "It's better than nothing," he said as she pulled off one of the sleeves of her coat, revealing a mostly bare arm. Just below the short sleeve of her shirt rested a plain looking device with a brown leather strap. She unlatched it and it fell off her arm into Eddie's open and waiting hand. His fingers wrapped around it greedily before he opened the side door of the can and climbed in.

"Are the sedatives really necessary?!" she heard her partner shout as she pulled her coat back over her exposed arm, then climbed into the front passenger seat of the can. "The guy's already knocked out, probably had his brain fried, too! Not like he's gonna do any harm now," Eddie protested from behind her.

She was too tired to even look back, pulling the door closed and pressing her cheek against the cold glass of the window. At least she was out of the rain for the rest of the night.

"Following protocol," Quin said from the far back end of the van, just before slamming the back doors shut.

Her breathing had slowed and the voices of the two men were now little more than background murmurs as began to doze. Once the engine was turned, the familiar growl of the machinery lulled her into a deeper sleep.

_**o0o** _

The sharp slam of the driver door woke her with a start. Instinctively she put her hand to where she usually kept her sidearm, only to remember it was lost in the abandoned mall complex. It took a few moments for her to regain her bearings. "What's going on?"

"Tosser," Eddie snapped angrily as he clambered out the side of the van, mumbling to himself.

She couldn't help but smile sleepily at his reflection in the side view mirror before climbing out of the van to join him. "I'll give you a hand."

He frowned at her. "You're worn out. Besides," he said, rounding the back of the van to open the doors. "This is man's work."

She followed him, glaring playfully at him but she couldn't hold it for long. "I've been doing this three years longer than you, sunshine. I've dragged around my fair share of bodies, thank you."

"Fine..." he muttered, peeling off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. It was the first she had been able to see of his injuries, and their true extent. Bruises... Ha! Bruises didn't bleed out. She stopped him when he reached into the van for the sedated body.

"You go and get that patched up. I'll take this."

"But-"

"I've caught a few winks. Hit my second wind." She reached into the van and took hold of one arm, pulling the nude, sleeping man part way out of the back. "I'll lock up this bloke and pop 'round to see you properly.

"Bring me grapes?"

"I don't like you that much. Now go on."

She hefted the body out with a grunt, turning around to bend at the knees and hoist him up on her shoulders to carry. He was much heavier than he looked. But she only needed to carry him as far as the freight lift. After that, it was a matter of laying him down and fetching a cart when they got to the right floor.

"Don't put your back out," he called to her as she hurried her way to the freight lift. He went in the opposite direction, taking the staff entrance to the basement floors below.

_**o0o** _

Eddie bit his lip as he poured the alcohol solution down his side. He'd managed to conceal the wound well enough while they were under siege, and even held his tongue during the wait in Splott. Hell, he may have even managed to slip down to the infirmary undetected later on had he not been so hot and needed to remove his coat.

"Need a hand?"

He looked up to see Quin watching him from the doorway. The man held a metal tray with a white mug, steaming with the promise of liquid invigoration. Beside it a tube of ointment and a small first aid kit.

"No," Eddie muttered under his breath as he wiped his side. His wound bubbled before he applied the first bandage he'd found in the stores. "Not like you'd follow through anyway," he grumbled.

"What's your deal?" Quin snapped back. "You're injured. Let me help."

"Oh I don't know. Maybe the king of punctuality was late. Fried the power cells in my ingenious creations-"

"Which are knock-offs of an original design," Quin said, forcing calmness back into his voice. And it was always this calmness that had never failed to infuriate the techno-whiz further.

Eddie reached out and snatched up a wad of gauze from the first aid kit. "There, happy? You helped. Now go do whatever it is you do around here."

A slight shake of his head preceded Quin setting the tray down. Then, as if given some subconscious cue each hand went to the bottom of his suit jacket and gave it a gentle tug. While for the man it was a force of habit and nothing more, Eddie always saw it as proof that the other man was a pretentious git. "Get cleaned up," the American said. "Jack wants everyone in the board room for a full report."

"In person?"

"In person."

Eddie groaned again, but this time it was not induced by his injury. "This doesn't bode well..." he said to Quin's retreating back.

He fumbled with the rest of his wound dressing until Matilda came to check on him. She'd changed into something clean and dry, he noticed. Briefly, he relayed the minor altercation with their driver to her as she took over properly dressing his wound. She accompanied him back up to the main level of the base, one level below the warehouse where they had arrived. On their way to the board room, they passed by a little used office marked "Private" on the open door. Quin was standing at a desk, using an antiquated communication system called a land-line. He waved them on when he saw them, giving a small smile as he adjusted his mauve colored tie, holding the receiver of the old telephone between his shoulder and his cheek.

_**o0o** _

He'd never been one to stay down for long. Not intentionally.

The last thing he remembered clearly was laying out beneath the triple suns on the nude beaches of Tellios 7. The next thing he knew he was falling through the vortex in his birthday suit. A crash landing had knocked him out, or killed him. He couldn't have been entirely sure. Coming to, he was in darkness. Creatures tearing at his legs as he scrambled to get away, naked and defenseless. Not even a micro blaster tucked away in a bodily crevice. Recalling the events that had led him here, he couldn't help but smile remembering the time he DID hide one on his body... One of the few amusing memories of that first time he died...

He willed the happy memory to fade, focusing in on more recent events. The creatures were tearing at him as he struggled to get away. The smell of the air an all too familiar scent from the old days at Torchwood. A weevil den. But what tried to kill him weren't weevils. Something worse, something quicker- stronger. What had picked him up by the throat was, however, the familiar clawed hands of the shit eating sewer dwellers. Thrown like a rag doll into a hive of them. But they weren't trying to kill him. They fought something else. Something stronger. Then the familiar shadow of death fell upon him. Brought on by a broken neck and back as he'd been roughly manhandled. Just as he had begun to come back around, a lightness had overtaken him. Floating gently then.... nothing.

Groaning he rolled onto his side. A dull ache pervaded his senses, emanating from the back of his neck and at the base of his skull. Where ever he was, he knew he hadn't gotten there on his own. Goosebumps rose on his skin as the chill from the hard stone floor caught him by surprise. How long had he lain on his back in this hovel? Slowly opening his eyes, he could see by a dim light shining down from the ceiling that his body aced a wall made of the same stone as the floor.

_“You're awake."_

His ear pricked up as he listened for the source of the voice. Then, he slowly turned his head and the rest of his body followed to lay him on his back once more. His vision was blurry, but clearing well enough to make out the organic patterns on the ceiling, marking it again, the same as the stone beneath him. This room, he realized, had been cut out of solid rock. Blue eyes searched for the source of the unfamiliar, sexless, unaccented voice. The lack of clear accent or dialect giving him no clue as to where or even when he might be in the universe.

_"There are clothes and a food packet in the corner."_

He stopped his search for the source of the sound when he found the black speaker in the center of the ceiling, blending in almost seamlessly with the stone. Mentally he ran through a list of all possible places he could be. After a few long moments he pushed the thought aside to run in the back of his thoughts. There were far too many to list, and it was a rather large universe he existed in. However, he also knew that given time he would find out soon enough the answer he sought. After all, that was the only thing he had an abundance of. Time.

"Remind me to tip the porter when he brings my next meal," he quipped, sitting up. He rubbed the back of his neck, the ache starting to fade and bring a sense of pleasant relief in it's wake. Whatever had happened to him, at some point he knew his neck had been broken more than just the once.

_"Water will be brought for you to wash with shortly. We are waiting for results."_

He looked around again, trying to scry any information he could from his surroundings. Trying to work out a plan of escape. But it was a hard thing to do when he couldn't even find indications of a door to this prison cells. "Results of what?" he asked, sprinkling a note of curiosity into his voice. He may have thrown the bait too thick, as there was no answer. Not that he expected one. But sometimes depending on how overconfident a captor became, they might spill their entire plan if asked the correct leading questions.

He climbed to his feet and stretched his stiff, reanimated limbs. He inspected them closely. What for, he didn't stop to guess. He knew nothing had changed. Nothing ever did unless it was a result of mere age and average wear that the many years could do to him. He glanced at the corner where the silver plastic of the food packet say atop a smartly folded pile of cloth.

He took his time getting dressed, examining the clothes left for him. Searching for just s small scrap of information. "At least it's not orange," he said, knowing that his every word was likely being recorded. He thought of her whenever he came into situations like this. He remembered the filthy, orange jumpsuits prisoners of UNIT were forced to wear. He shook his head as he pulled on the gray sweatpants, pushing memories of Toshiko from his thoughts.

The clothes themselves were a plain, somber gray. A matching sweatshirt. The tags inside his clothes, he noted, were written in Arabic. Not that he cared all that much as to the washing instructions of the garments. It told him that at least he was dealing with Earthlings. Whether he was on Earth itself, or elsewhere with that particular species was still to be determined. Though it had narrowed down his choices considerably. Not much, but enough.

Once dressed he sat with his back against the wall, opposite of where he had found the clothes and food. Logic told him the exit must be close to that point in the cell. The meal pack was on the floor beside him, uneaten for the moment, but thoroughly picked through and examined.

_**o0o** _

It was over forty-eight since the events in the abandoned mall. They'd given a report in the board room to their boss, who had remained silent the entire time. Then, he told them to head home and get some sleep. Now, two days later, it was business as usual.

"You look like-" Eddie began when his partner stormed into the main offices.

"I'm covered in Raxillian afterbirth. Do not speak to me," she said angrily as she crossed the floor, heading towards the lift to the lower levels. "Don't," she repeated firmly when she had passed him, his mouth open to comment. "I'll be in the shower. I hate this job."

Eddie rolled his eyes, swiveling his chair back to face the bay of monitors that consumed his desk. "I've finally got the results from those scans in!" he called after her, only to hear the lift doors grind shut in reply.

He sighed, and coupled it with a shake of the head before pulling his headphones on, the plastic band resting behind his neck as he worked. Aside from the numerous scans he'd been ordered to run on their guest, Torchwood had come into possession of a tablet. A tablet written in a language unknown to Earth. Though it was not a pressing matter, he chose to work on translating it in his spare time. So far he'd discovered it was a list of ingredients. He hoped that the rest of it may be instructions on how to use them, or what they were for.

He hoped against all hope that they might turn out to be a recipe, one he could adapt in the kitchens. He did always like to subject his team to his experiments.

He toiled away for what felt like hours, his fingers hitting the keys in rhythm to the music blasting into his ears. The translator programs running at full tilt while he cataloged results from the most recent scans, placing them into an order that even their oh-so-fearless leader would be able to comprehend.

"Well look who's a busy bee today."

The twenty-one year old nearly jumped in his skin as his headphones were yanked off his neck, abruptly cutting off the steady supply of classic industrial grunge from his environment. His chair spun around as he readied himself to furiously snap at Quin, who seemed to exist only to scare and torment the poor boy. Only... it wasn't Quin and the angry words that had been about to fly and color the air blue halted in his throat when he looked upon the dark, smiling face staring back at him with a kind twinkle in her eye.

"M....M..... Madame Milligan!" he exclaimed as he began to recover. "Wh-"

She laughed lightly, brushing a tuft of graying black hair from her face. "He didn't say I was coming, did he?"

Eddie shook his head, pushing his chair back against the edge of his workstation. "W... What brings you down here? It's not yet Christmas holiday. And I thought Luke was supposed to-"

"Jack asked me to come," she said, reaching out and patting his shoulder. "You're so cute when you're flustered."

He turned his head to look from her shoulder, down her arm to the hand on his own shoulder and shrugged it off. "Jack's not here. He's gone out to Ground Zero following a lead on a Karvakian glider," he said. "He thinks that if there's enough of the ship left, I may be able to augment the computer systems and use them in scanning for inorganic life forms. The Karvakians were at one time vicious and bitter enemies of the Cybermen, and had developed technology capable of-"

"Alright alright," the older woman said. "I'll just wait for him in his office."

"Ma'am, can I- I mean, if it's not-"

"Go ahead," she said patiently.

"Well Madame-"

"How many times do I have to tell you. Call me Martha. Madame makes me sound so old."

He smiled nervously and gave a small nod. "Well, M.. Martha. Why are you here, if it's not much trouble."

She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth, behind her lip. He watched her closely, trying to divine a deeper meaning behind such an unimportant action. If Eddie didn't know any better, and he knew everything there was to know, he'd guess he was about to be fed a line. A line that wouldn't quite add up to the evidence he would soon dig out based on what he would hear later.

"You're a smart man, Eddie," she said at last while she put her hands in her pockets. "You'll puzzle it out. Now, if you would be so kind as to send Quin in with a cup of tea, that'd be brilliant."

"Sorry Mad- I mean, Martha. He's gone with Jack. You know what those two are like out in the field. Probably won't be back for a few hours yet so long as things go smoothly. I could fetch Mattie if you like. She popped down for a show a bit ago. Probably hopped over to the firing range for a bit."

She gave a small shake of her head. "That won't be necessary. A glass of water will be fine. I need to cut back on the caffeine anyway."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am." He watched her go in the direction of the board room before veering off into one of the side rooms. When she was out of sight he sighed in relief and turned his attention to the surveillance feed. Their guest was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs. For a moment Eddie could swear the man was staring straight at him.

He checked the time then turned his attention back to his tasks. His concentration was broken, his play-list was on shuffle, and the head director had just made an impromptu visit to Cardiff all the way from Glasgow. This couldn't possibly have a happy ending. Not even a moderately happy and somewhat content ending. A long finger tapped a button on his keyboard. "Jack, it's Eddie. Might want to try and wrap that up quick as you can, yeah. Milligan just came in and scared the beejeebus out of me."

_**o0o** _

"Get that thing to the cells!" came that untraceable American accent. The voice was strong, booming through the main office chamber as its owner raced through in a blur. Eddie jumped from his chair with a grimace, pain shooting through his side, to run and aid Quin with the latest acquisition.

"And for the love of Darwin!" the voice snapped. "Don't get near the mouth!"

A door down the hall leading to the board room slammed closed with enough force to rattle nearby equipment, had anyone been bothering to notice. Quin groaned under the weight of the creature he was left to carry alone. Eddie grabbed what he assumed to be an arm, or at least an arm-like limb and hoisted it over his shoulder. "Where'd you find this one?"

He caught the green glare from the other side of the creature's oversized head. "The Karvakian crash site at Ground Zero," he replied in a hurried, clipped manner.

"This is a Karvakian?"

"No," Quin snapped as they managed to drag the body through the office to a larger cargo lift that bypassed the infirmary and recreation levels. "Where the hell is Matilda?"

Eddie winched as he shifted the weight he carried long enough to squeeze into the lift with the other man and the creature. "This thing really stinks, don't it?" He received no response as they rode in awkward silence further down into the earth.

_**o0o** _

She looked up when the door was flung open with such force she believed it may bounce back and strike the man that came through it in the face. Instead as he moved out of the way it slammed closed behind him. Said man had quickly unbuttoned his shirt and was pulling it off as he went straight for a filing cabinet to the side of the room.

"What's wrong?" she older woman asked in concern as he tried to both undress and rummage through a drawer.

"Need to change," he said, flinging the shirt into a trash can beside the desk. She rose quickly from the seat, backing away from both the trash can and the man when the tell tale sizzle of acid corrosion came from the can and the contents inside. "Gorlack vomit. Acid."

He glanced at her, giving a smirk. "It'll be fine," he said. "Just... don't touch the fabric." He managed to find another shirt in the drawer as the bottom burned out of the trash can, and at last the sizzle seemed to burn out when it hit the stonework of the floor. The replacement shirt was thrust towards her. A soft, pastel blue. Slightly wrinkled. "Does this smell foul to you? I don't remember if it ever got washed after an incident with the-"

"Jesus Christ just put your shirt on and get rid of- whatever it is that – that-"

His eyes widened in excitement. "Oh! Water! PERFECT!" He snatched the glass of water Martha had been previously drinking and leaned forward, rather awkwardly, to pout the water down his back. "Oh God yes... That hit the spot." He stood up straight and beamed at her proudly before peering down into the trash bin. "Oh... Just in time, too. Look at it. Blue cotton soup."

She sighed, nervously moving back to her previous position at the desk. She stole a few seconds to peer into the bin herself and wrinkled her nose with a shake of her head. "We'll need to get Quincy in here to deal with that properly before it eats a hole through the floor."

"Nah. It doesn't eat through stone." He sniffed the shirt himself, then offered it to her again. "Seriously, does this smell foul? All I can smell right now is burning flesh."

"No need for details, Jack," she said, holding up her hand. The younger man shrugged and undid the buttons on the shirt, sliding it on. He left it open for the time being more out of laziness than habit. He wasn't particularly stunning, but decently toned. Mostly average, but nothing of real note.

Martha shook her head and sat down, reaching to turn the computer monitor she had previously been watching. It showed a gray-scale video feed of the man they kept locked in the basement cell below.

The half-dressed man's face pulled into a hesitant smile. He scratched at sweaty, matted shaggy brown hair before abandoning it thoughtlessly. The grime and dirt from his foray into the field not long before kept it stuck at odd angles and unkempt. "Yeah... I knew I forgot about something..."

Deep brown eyes glared, boring into him. Her expression, having been annoyed and disgruntled had now fallen to solid steel. He had seen that expression on the 50-something woman's face more than enough times to know what it meant. "Cut the surveillance feed," she said sternly.

He swallowed hard, giving a nod before turning and doing what he was told.

There weren't many things in the world, nay, the universe that Jack Harborne, director of Torchwood Cardiff was afraid of. But a very disgruntled and angry Martha Jones Milligan was one of the very few that struck fear into his very veins.

_**o0o** _

Eddie was standing doubled over after they'd gotten the prisoner secured. The pain had slammed into him so suddenly he choked on the air. The air in the cell block wasn't particularly fresh, but it was a slice of heaven compared to breathing near that monster.

Quin punched in the final security codes to lock the cell. The last stretch down the corridor of cell block 41 had been rough work. The sedatives had worn off and the creature was trying to constantly vomit on them. Though it was having trouble since Eddie had mistakenly taken the thing's proboscis snout to be an arm. Needless to say the young man had been more than surprised to find that there was a very foul, very dangerous substance spraying out from the appendage draped over his shoulder.

"Are you injured?" Quin asked, examining his suit jacket for any stray droplets of the deadly bodily fluid.

Eddie checked himself over, shaking his head and standing as best as he could upright. He did his best to school his features to hide the pain in his side from the injury received during the mall incident just days before. "No, I think I'm good." After the spray had begun, he'd stopped long enough to rip his shirt off. Thankfully he'd remembered to wear something underneath, just in case he'd get too hot working around all of the equipment.

"You've got a bit of red on you."

He looked down at his shirt, then squirreled his head around to try and get a look at his back. The white undershirt seemed fine, if only slightly dirty now. Until he noticed the spreading red patch on his side... "Fuck. It's reopened."

"We'll go up and I'll properly dress that for you. It's likely infected by now."

"No, I'm fine."

"Look, you just helped me carry that thing down here. Let me make sure you don't die of infection because you were careless. Unfortunately for us it would be hard to replace you."

The younger man smirked, but narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Was that a compliment? Really? Coming from you... well..."

Quin narrowed his eyes to look equally suspiciously back at him. "If it's any consolation, a little of me died inside when I said that. Now come on." He turned on his heel rather quickly, almost robotic-like, and headed for the nearest passenger lift. Eddie was thankful it wasn't the cargo lift again. He was sure it would take the office manager a week or more to get the stench out of that small space.

_**o0o** _

After cleaning herself up numerous times in the guest suite showers, Mattie had indeed gone to the firing range. It was her recreational relaxation. The only constant in her life she could count on to help get her thoughts in order after a disturbing mission. She managed to put the sight of an alien giving birth out of her mind, but it caused other things to bubble forth from the recesses.

Namely, the bloke they locked up in the cells. She'd been too tired that night when she and Eddie made their report. Too tired and worn out to question both Quin's behavior after their return to base, and Jack's... Well, he was always a strange one. That was usually a good thing. But he was also usually much more informative about the creatures, be they humanoid or otherwise, that were hauled in for holding.

This time though something struck the young inspector as odd. She might have been horrid with names and remembering birthdays, and she may have been shite at remembering her father's special dressing recipe that he only used during Christmas holiday. But if there was one thing she was good at, and had come in quite handy over the years, it was remembering faces. She not only had a knack for them, she remembered every face she had ever seen in her lifetime.

Up until the shopping mall incident, she believed this talent foolproof. She thought it was her greatest asset aside from her stubbornness. But now she questioned it's reliability.

As she fired off half a clip at the target across the shooting range she came to the realization of why the man in the basement presented such a headache for her. Though she'd never met this man before, had never seen him before, she knew his face. Where from, she could only guess. But she had seen it somewhere, some-when. The thought of it nagged at her.

And then, as she slammed the side of her fist against the button to retract the line from which the weevil target had been attached it struck her. On her second day in Cardiff as part of the team, she had been handed a thick volume stuffed with handwritten notes, photographs, and old typed manuscripts. She had thumbed through it on the way to the archives to store it.

That volume, she knew, was somewhere in the vaults. And inside it she knew she would find the answer to the man's identity.


	3. Chapter 3

"I thought you might want to visit your friend first," he said, sitting on the corner of his own desk and crossing his arms. With the press of a button in his pocket, the internal CCTV had been set to static. For this location at least. "After all, it's been what? Twenty-five? Twenty-six years?"

"I will. But there are a few things we must go over before I do. Firstly, your team. How much do they know?"

He shrugged. "Mulder and Scully have probably sorted out that there's something big doing down but other than that, I don't think they suspect much else than the usual Rift problem."

"And Quincy?"

"You mean the walking Encyclopedia Britannica? He knows more than I ever will, that's for sure. But he's been keeping his distance. Wibbly-wobbly and all of that nonsense." He scratched the back of his head again. "Good thing, too."

The old woman raised a brow. "Why's that?"

Barking laughter exploded out of him. "Remember what happened when I graduated from the academy? Jesus H. Darwin I don't think anybody'd forget that!"

She nodded, giving him an exasperated sigh as she easily recalled the newly minted Officer Harborne decking the Captain after he'd tried his hand at flirting with then office temp Quincy. It was not a pretty sight when the Doctor had to break them apart, the two men with noses out of joint, arms broken and snapping back into place. Just remembering the gruesome sight made her shudder. "Good point. Even though it seems that hasn't happened for him yet, it doesn't hurt to be careful."

He nodded, laughter subsiding and his expression falling into one of a more serious nature. Brown eyes glanced at the monitor, watching the man who paced the stone lined cell like a lion. "But we're not here to shoot the shit, Martha. Let's talk shop."

"Of course." She pulled out a file from the stack on the desk before her. She held it out to him. Quickly the current Cardiff leader flipped it open, skimming through the papers inside. "I assume you've read standing order 12."

"It's why I contacted you. You're the only one left from back then who knows him. So with my team of misfits what they are, I'm going to need a little help in the early stages of this one. Will need to requisition help from the big boss lady." He dropped the folder on the desk, letting his hand trail across the ordered chaos of knickknacks and toys before picking up a rubber band ball. He tossed it in the air a few times before he spoke again. "We're going to have to deal with a few issues before we can let him out though. Security, names, lodging," he said, trailing off.

"And Quincy."

The rubber band ball was dropped back on the desk, bouncing a bit before landing on a pile of crumpled napkins. He gave her a mischievous little smile that often caught her off guard. Reminiscent of the boy she used to know years ago, in her final traveling days with the Doctor. "And Quincy," he said in agreement.

_**o0o** _

He sucked in air through his teeth as Quin exposed his two day old injury to air. "Do you have to be so da-"

"Just as I thought..." Green eyes looked down over the white surgical mask. "Infected. Lie back as best you can. I'll have to properly clean this before I can assess the rest of it."

"Oh no. I'm not falling for that one again. Besides, what would Jack say? You haven't bought me dinner first."

"Shut up and lie back," he said, putting a gloved hand on the young man's chest and gently pushing him down. Eddie hissed again, this time at the chill of the steel table beneath his bare flesh. When Quin was sufficiently satisfied with the cleanliness of the wound, he left Eddie's side to retrieve the surgical scanner. "I'm going to take a few pictures. I'm sure you've cracked, if not broken something in there. The area is far too tender to have just been a flesh wound."

Eddie tried to keep his cool. "And who says you can't pass off as a decent doctor," he quipped nervously. He hated doctors under the best of circumstances. Hell, he didn't much care for nurses either. This office boy was neither, Eddie knew. In his mind this could only spell disaster. "Maybe I should just pop over to Cardiff A&E for a bit."

"Nonsense. Now keep still, otherwise I may accidentally fry your central nervous system."

"Real reassuring there mate."

"I do my best," he replied, reaching down to push Eddie's head back down onto the table with a pang. Then, he attached the scanner to the apparatus overhead, pulled it lower, and centered it over Eddie's pelvis area before switching it on.

"Are you sure-"

"I said keep still. Unless you never wish to have children."

That seemed to silence the younger man up. And behind the white surgical mask Quincy was grinning like the cat whom caught the mouse.

_**o0o** _

Matilda moved slowly in the darkness, sweeping torch light over the shelves as she passed. Carefully she inspected every label on every shelf. The archives had expanded since her arrival to the team, and as such she no longer knew every secret nook and cranny. Already she'd gotten turned around and had to seek out a map terminal. There was, she remembered, one terminal every ten corridors. The LED screens lit up like an open sign on a chip shop in the middle of the night. She'd stopped by to check them at every opportunity to ensure she was now going in the right direction.

The archives were kept in the sub-basements that they almost affectionately called the Crypt. Care-taking duties for it had fallen to Quincy, but when she'd first joined the duties were solely on Jack's shoulders. Though second in command, she had all the clearance she needed to access it, she rarely sought anything here on her own.

The first time she had found herself walking the Crypt she found herself in a section devoted to alien artifacts. She and her former partner Mikal had confiscated a time ring from a reporter in Ealing. Miss Jackson seemed to believe that the time ring, in the right hands, could do so much good in the world. Jack had sent her down with Quincy to catalog it and seal it away for good.

When she remembered her most recent trip to the Crypt, she discovered there had been more than mere artifacts and ancient tomes hidden away here. She found herself standing before a blank space of wall now. Though she knew there had been a room beyond, but none could access it save Jack alone. Not even the highest ranked Torchwood officer, Madame Martha Milligan, could get into that particular corner of the sub-basements. The wall was made of a very durable alloy developed by their team in Glasgow, but gave off the appearance of stone. She shuddered, chills going down her spine as she recalled what lay beyond that point.

A man... But little else. A prisoner of the former regime. Frozen in time and never to awaken. She stood on her toes to peer in through a slightly lighter part of the wall before her. A small monitor, with retina recognition, allowed her to at least view inside this room. To check and ensure the prisoner was still inside. That, she was afraid, was as far as her access could get her. She watched him, though there was nothing to watch. A man in a cryostatis chamber. Humanoid, with a slight gray tinge to his skin. When they'd brought him down, Jack himself had accompanied them, helping to ensure great care was taken when handling the chamber and setting it into place. Why they kept him, she didn't want to speculate. Why he had been frozen to start with... All she knew had been the man was involved in a terrible murder of Torchwood agents. Nothing more, and nothing less had been allowed for her to know.

Some things from Torchwood's dark age were better left in the shadows of the Crypt.

She shined her light on the floor, where the identifying marker for this room had been placed. Gray, it said. So she was in the G's. Strayed far from her desired path. After seeking out the nearest map terminal, she plotted a route to the E's. The volume she sought, if she remembered correctly, had been marked E. For _**Exposure**_.

_**o0o** _

"Two lowest ribs broken. Third one up is cracked. And you have been walking around how long like this?"

"Two days."

"I think that's a new personal record for you," he replied as he removed the gloves and dropped them in the waste basket.

Eddie struggled to get his shirt back on, finding the plaster-like cast Quincy had attached to him quite difficult to navigate around. "What exactly is this thing and how did you get it on me?"

Quincy pulled the mask down, flashing a large and obviously false smile. His bright green eyes were alight with amusement, which made his forced expression all the more sinister. "It's a self-replicating plastic resin confiscated from the Freyurian ambulance cruiser that crash landed in Moscow last year. I'd been meaning to test it out, but was never given the opportunity."

"I am NOT your guinea pig!" the younger man shouted angrily as he flailed the only arm that wasn't bent and encapsulated in alien plastic resin while in an awkward position. "You have no right to experiment on me while I am injured!"

"Since I am not a licensed surgeon," the office manager started as he reached for a glass jar just out of Eddie's line of sight. "And taking you to A&E with some sort of alien creature trying to wriggle it's way through your upper abdomen would have been a very bad idea. I think I did remarkably well under the circumstances."

Brown eyes went wide as the techno-whiz went paler than normal. "You... that...." He swallowed hard.

"Careful not to faint again."

"I didn't faint!"

Quin laughed as he set the jar with the wriggling creature swimming inside on the table where Eddie could easily see it. Then he removed the white coat he had put on while the other man had fallen unconscious, fainting from fright. "I turned on the scanner and you were out like a light. Your mother must have hated taking you to the doctor as a boy."

"Bastard," Eddie spat.

"Broad spectrum antibiotics. General pain killers. And light duty until your next check-up Mr. Williams," Quin said, his tone rather amused. "And don't forget to secure your new pet in the incinerator."

He left the computer specialist in the infirmary, still struggling with his shirt.

_**o0o** _

"So it's settled then," she said. "Send everyone home. I'll handle the Captain."

"Martha, are you sure?"

"And you're going home, too. When was the last time you saw a decent bed, Commander?" she asked him, giving a knowing look. Three days worth of stubble told her all she needed to know. Her mouth cracked into a wide smile. "I'll be fine. He's an old friend. A little out of touch with time at the moment, but what else can you expect when a man is locked in a featureless cell?"

The younger man laughed lightly. "Well, Mattie wanted to put up a poster of a cat clinging to a tree branch with the words 'Hang in there!' in big hot pink letters. I felt it was just a bit too much."

She shook her head and stood, reaching out to clasp his shoulder in an old familiar manner between friends. "Gather the troops, then go home Jack. At least take a shower and a shave. Catch up on your telly. Maybe actually spend a nice evening out with Quin, yeah?"

"What if the Rift throws us another ugly one? Or Cardiff suddenly decides to go Belgium?"

Martha's resolve would not falter, and she gave him a stern look to match. "I said take the day off. Forget about this place for just twenty-four hours... No, make that forty-eight. If anything goes wrong, I'm here. Remember, so is the Captain."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," he said, then his face lit up in worry. "Wait, what if there's a banana shortage and everyone's left with only pears at the market and-"

"Jack, seriously?" She shook her head with a sigh. "Now you're just grasping at straws. Go, before I have to throw you out myself."

He grumbled under his breath, giving his shaggy brown hair one more scratch. Martha could literally watch as that overly expressive face began to pout, causing worry lines to exaggerate immensely. He was far too young for such a deeply saddened face. But they had both agreed that it would be best for everyone if she handled this, the initial stages at least, alone. "Oh, alright," he said at last, resigned.

"Before you go, be sure Quincy has made arrangements for the Captain's lodgings. And some suitable clothing as well. You know what he likes."

"Oh come on! The fact I didn't kill him on sight should be more than enough!"

"Don't sass me, kiddo. Trust me, the more accommodating we seem, the more likely he is to stick around. If we are going to get to the bottom of how and why he was brought here, we need him to work with us. We need to keep him close for observation."

He mumbled under his breath again as he went, finally buttoning up his shirt. She waited to be sure he would be well on his way before leaving the office and heading in the opposite direction. It was time to find her old, dear friend.

_**o0o** _

It had taken her a while, but she finally found what she had been searching for. After using her superior's pass-code on the lock box, noting he still hadn't changed it since the last time someone used it without authorization, she pulled the volume out from the large metal box and set it and herself on the floor.

Carefully she opened the fire and water damaged tome, careful not to let the loose leaf pages fall out. Old photos clung to the yellowed, moldy paper by way of paperclips and cellophane tape. The last time she had seen this notebook had been her second day on the team. They'd gotten a shipment for storage from Glasgow. Waiting for Quin to join her as escort into the Crypt, she had thumbed through it. Bored, and slightly curious.

Now she scanned the pages quickly, shining the torch on every photograph and every handwritten note she could find. Most of the photos were too damaged for her to take them out clearly. Taken on the old kind of film that her mum and dad had littered around the house. Why they weren't converted to holos, she'd never understand. She kept turning the pages, reading what she could. She devoured the words as if they fed a hunger she was not previously aware of. A hunger to know more, to solve this puzzle. She stopped when she reached a memo, the tape holding it in place dried and cracked but still clinging for what it was worth. She shined the light closer to the page, looking it over carefully. The paper was warped, but not in a way fire or water may have done. Perhaps paperclips that had fallen to the bottom of the box.

She skimmed the memo, then stopped and looked back to the top of the page, reading aloud to herself in disbelief. "From Jack," she said, reading further to see the recipients of the memo. Her heart beat faster. This was something that, perhaps, her own mother had held in her hands. Something from before the reconstruction. From before the Sardosi refugee crisis. A time when mankind still thought all aliens were green and from Mars, or gray and gave humans anal probes.

She shook her head to get rid of the silly thoughts of green and gray aliens, and noticed a handwritten note in the margin. Crisp and dark. Carefully written in an antique lettered style. She hadn't seen something like it except in history books... but it was also a hand she recognized easily. She saw it every day. Jack, their leader, wrote like that. And it always gave her headaches trying to decipher it. She glanced around, making sure she was still alone and ripped the page out. She set it aside and continued searching through the book.

She found other things as well that didn't seem to belong. At least, they didn't at first. The closer she got to the center of the book, the cleaner the pages. The more intact the documents. However there were empty spaces on some pages. She could tell by the yellowed age of the paper, yet a clean square or space where something had clearly been in place for many years. Far too many empty spaces and not enough in the bottom of the box to account for them all. "Someone's been through this already," she said to herself, realizing she wasn't the first to do a little more digging into Torchwood's past.

She stopped her search abruptly to admire a photograph of one man in particular. She didn't know his name. Probably never would even if she tried to look for it in this book. His mouth struck her as thin and cruel, and his face a bit sharp on the eyes as well. However, he was in her opinion quite handsome, in a rough sort of way. The smile she gave back down to the photograph was grim. If he were in the book, it meant he worked for Torchwood in the past. And if that were true, he was quite surely dead before in his prime.

Matilda continued searching the book, removing bits and pieces she felt might be useful later until she found what she was looking for. A photograph of her parents on their wedding day. She remembered when she had first seen it that it shouldn't have been in this odd book. She only now recently recalled it because this version had appeared so alien to her. Another just like it hung in the foyer of her childhood home. Larger, and now she knew for sure, very much doctored. In the far left side, almost cut from the shot, was the man. That man she had dragged down to the cells. The man she and Eddie had risked life and limb to rescue when in her opinion they should have left him for dead.

Perhaps what struck her as most eerie was that this man looked exactly the same in the photo, only clothed. Not a day older than when this picture was taken over two decades ago.

_"Alright girls, and Matilda,"_ came her boss's voice in her ear, pulling her suddenly from her thoughts. She quickly packed the book away and placed it on the shelf as the voice continued to buzz in her ear. _"Pack your bags and meet me in the warehouse,"_ it continued as she picked up the scraps and pages she'd removed from the book.

_"You sound far too chipper, sir,"_ was Quin's reply over the coms.

Next she heard Eddie, a bit muffled and strained. _"I'm going to need a bit of help here Quin,"_ the voice spat with as much venom as she had ever heard in it.

She was nearly out of the E section when she joined in the conversation. "Where's your location?" she asked. "Infirmary?"

_"How'd you know?"_

"Lucky guess you klutz. I'll be up in a few. Need to sign the gun back in first."

The boss's voice came over the coms once again. _"Alright children. Less flirting, more moving."_

_**o0o** _

Captain Harkness lay on his back, his hands folded behind his head. He'd tired of pacing some time ago, and had gotten annoyed by his own humming. It was another four hours until whoever had the night shift would play music nonstop for him to listen to. Just as they had the previous two nights. Whomever it was, he had been grateful for them. Though it wasn't to his own personal tastes, it was better than listening to his own thoughts. Better than letting his mind wander into the haunted memories that drove him to keep from the arms of sleep.

But the voices that came over the radio waves were far too chipper for the middle of the night, and had also given him one of the most important clues of all as to his whereabouts. He wasn't just being held captive by humans. He was on Earth. And out of all the cities in all the countries on the face of that dust ball hurtling through time and space he could have landed on...

"Welcome back to Cardiff, Captain," came a sweet voice that to the Captain time could never dim. It came echoing into his cold cell moments after the panel in the wall to his right slid back and open, revealing the location of the cell's door.

"Wonders never cease," he said, a smile creeping onto his face. Though he remained where he lay on the floor. "When all hope seems lost, I hear the voice of the Nightingale." He opened one eye to look at her, half expecting the woman to be one of the many ghosts that haunted his thoughts. Though when he saw she had in fact been real, he raised a brow. Age had taken it's toll on her far more than her voice had let on. "Excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting visitors." His tone was dark. Bitter.

The old woman's smile back towards her old friend was the single most genuine one she had given in many years. Even her husband had never seen this smile. This one reserved only for her fellow Children of Time. "You’re supposed to say _Wow Martha, you haven't changed a bit!_ But I suppose that will have to do. Now get up. You're coming with me Captain."

He turned his head as she spoke to get a better look at her. At least, he concluded, that she had aged a little more gracefully than he had expected, given the horrors he knew she had lived through and those he did not. His concentration broke when she returned to the doorway and spoke again.

"Come now. I'm not getting any younger. We've got the whole place to ourselves."

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and blinked at her, giving a sly smile. "Did you just come on to me?"

"You're kidding yourself. Now get your lazy butt up mister."

"Yes ma'am," Captain Jack replied as he got to his feet. "You know, I've always had a thing for feisty military doctors."


	4. Chapter 4

 

It was fifteen minutes since his meeting with Martha. No doubt she had descended to the levels below as he and Quincy had wrapped up a few loose ends and gone up to the warehouse to wait. It was in the small area reserved for _Management Parking_ _Only_ that Eddie and Matilda had found them. "What's all this about, Jack?" Matilda had called, helping her partner keep from falling over as they had joined their colleagues.

"What the hell happened to you?!" was his superior's surprised reply.

At his side, Quin nudged him with his elbow. "Sir. The debrief."

He nodded. "Yes. Yes. Right...." he trailed off as if absentminded, then quickly spoke again. "Admiral's given you two a few days off."

"Sir-"

"Quin and I will be on call should anything happen," he lied, causing Quin to give a sidelong glance at his boss. This was not what they had discussed prior to Matilda and Eddie's arrival. In fact, it was the opposite, as Quincy had been told he too had the time off to do as he pleased.

"I'll never get him in the bloody car-" Matilda complained as her partner questioned the reason why they were given the time off. The three spoke amongst themselves, Eddie protesting, Quincy questioning, and Matilda greatly annoyed. At last the leader of the quartet barked an order for silence.

"Look, I'm not too happy about it either, but this is above my pay grade kids. Martha's orders. Might as well have come from the Crown himself. Besides, Eddie needs to rest up. Little shit's been through the wringer."

"Since you put it that way..." Eddie began. "Do I get paid time off for this? Or some kind of worker's compensation."

"Your mother gets a life insurance payout when you die. Unless you marry. Then it goes to your spouse," Quin replied, almost too quickly. Too eagerly.

Eddie snarled at him, causing Matilda to step between them. "Could we borrow your car, Quin? He won't fit in the front of mine. Not like this. Yours is a bit roomier."

Keys were tossed to her, and her own tossed back. A few more pleasantries were exchanged before the quartet broke apart into pairs. Eddie and Matilda in one blue luxury four door sedan... and the two men in a sporty little red number to take care of a few errands for Martha before they too could head home for the night.

_**o0o** _

Jack had followed her. He was unsure what to make of his situation. How long had he been gone? How old was the woman walking ahead of him now? He could hear her speaking to him, that sweet voice which saved the world with a story from a silver tongue. But he isn't listening. Instead he is mentally mapping out each twist, each turn down the corridors he is being led down. Eventually she had led him to an elevator. Rickety and unstable in appearance. Despite this, she stepped inside.

"Well, are you coming or what? I don't have all night." She gave him a kindhearted smile. He wondered if that was the same she had used on her patients. She was, he remembered clearly, at one time a doctor.

With a nod he stepped in beside her. Though thankful to be out of the cold cell, he was unable to shake the feeling that this was a place he didn't wish to be in much longer. She pulled the lever to close and secure the doors, and tried once more to engage him in conversation between floors.

"Sorry for the rough treatment, Jack. They had no way of knowing if you were a hostile or a refugee."

His defenses were lowered to her, but not dismissed completely. Even in these close quarters he could not fully trust this woman, whom he had formerly trusted with his life on many an occasion. "You know me," Jack said. "I'm game for anything."

"I hope that's still true," she replied, reaching for the pod in her ear. She didn't speak, only nodded before smiling and turning to Jack again. "Well, it's official. Everyone's gone home. We can get you a fresh change of clothes in the locker room. Those sweats have got to be crawling with... Well, it's you. I don't even want to think about it."

They shared a tense laugh, sizing one another up silently. Jack had learned over the years that one could figure out others based solely on how they handled elevators. For instance, Gwen was one of the few who had no problem standing beside him at the highest points in the city, or storming down an alien black market ring. Get the woman in an elevator and make sure it's only a few floors up or down. Otherwise, keep her pointed away from your shoes. Mount Vertigo always blew after floor 5.

Mickey on the other hand... Loud and obnoxious brokenhearted Mickey... He tended to become quiet. Contemplative in an elevator. Very reserved and almost zen-like. It was a sudden stark reminder that behind the bravado was a very bright and intelligent mind hiding away.

The Captain had believed he knew the woman riding along beside him. He'd thought he had learned everything about her through their shared troubles of the Year That Never Was. And this woman here with him was all of that, and more. It was the more he could not place in this short trip. Not yet.

The doors parted and she stepped out first, not waiting for him but confident that he would follow. She walked with her hands clasped behind her back, her head held high. Her pace was measured and quick, causing Jack to hasten behind her to keep from losing ground.

When they emerged from a corridor lined with doors it was into a large room filled with computer banks. It was not dissimilar to another he had often found himself in during years past. The room was a hodgepodge of old and new. Wires hanging everywhere. The floor and the walls, even the ceiling were made of the same stone as his cell. "What is going on here?"

Martha stopped at one of the computer banks, listening to her ear-pod again. "Jack, what do you prefer? Visa? Master Card? or-"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, unsure how to even answer the question. "Didn't those go under?"

She waved at him. "Leave the Visa. Has a lower interest rate. Heaven knows if we run up the expense reports again I think the accountants may actually have a mass heart attack this time." She laughed briefly before turning her attention back to Jack. "Sorry. You were saying?"

What had he been saying? He looked behind her to see another hallway. Narrow, just wide enough for a single person to pass through at a time. It gave the appearance of length. From his current angle, he saw it widened out at the end, but how wide and how far, he could not be certain. It may have been a trick of the light. Already he calculated his chances of getting around his old friend and how fast he could make it down that corridor to possible freedom.

"Jack?" Martha said, snapping her fingers inches away from his face. "You wanted something?" Her snapping and voice had broken his concentration.

He turned his bright blue eyes back to his old friend. "Yeah," he said, putting on his best false smile. "Why are you here and where the hell am I?"

She tutted as if dealing with a small child. "I thought I'd covered that already." She frowned. "You weren't paying any attention at all were you?"

Jack quickly racked his brain for everything she had said between the cell and now. Ah yes, the elevator. She'd mentioned Cardiff. "Well... From what you've said, Cardiff," he said. This got him a slightly approving smirk. At least he knew where he was. The rest he still tried to puzzle out.

Martha turned, pulling a chair from the nearest station and setting it out for him. Then, she pulled another over for herself. "You might want to have a sit down, Jack"

"I think I'll stand."

"It wasn't a request."

Jack was surprised to find himself doing as she had commanded. He watched her seat herself. Her posture spoke, nay screamed, of having done something similar to this situation before. But this time he got the feeling she was on the storyteller end. It was in her tone more than anything else.

"You've figured it all out. I can tell. You've got that look in your eye."

"What look?" Jack feigned innocence.

She laughed, but it was grim. "That same look people get when they step into the TARDIS. That look I had when I saw your top secret base."

She was right. He was piecing it together. Slowly at first, but now, in the heart of what he presumed to be a base of operations, he knew. Unwilling to give it a name, he said simply, "The Doctor would be ashamed of what you've done here."

Martha steeled her gaze and stared him straight in the eye. It was a stare that seemed to bore into the deepest depths of his very soul. "The Doctor helped, in his own fashion, to rebuild it."

"You know this is wrong. Even when I tried to... Martha, this isn't right. This isn't you."

"This is Torchwood, Jack," she said flatly. "Everything has changed. Without you, this entire world has gone to the dogs."

The Captain crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Glad to know I was so important after all."

She shook her head. "After twenty five years... It's good to hear your voice. Even if you are an insufferable ass."

_**o0o** _

Quin had just finished speaking to Martha when his boss came out of the night market, arms laden with groceries. "Get it done yet?"

"Nearly. I've sorted out a hotel, what credit card to leave for him, and have attempted to locate an all night clothing store. Unfortunately, the only place we are going to find his customary coat is-"

"My closet or an antique store. Or, bright idea, how about he not have one. That's an idea, too."

"Sir-" Quin started, but was cut off when shopping bags were thrust at him.

"Deal with these."

Once the shopping had been stowed away in the boot, Quin climbed into the passenger seat and buckled himself in. "You're going to have to deal with your anger issues before we return to work."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

"The same as I do. Bottle them up until you explode and accidentally kill the alien equivalent to a chinchilla." He shrugged. "I think I've found a shop for the coat."

"We're not going to a shop."

"Unless you've got a secret storage locker somewhere I don't-" He cut himself off as his boss silently started the car. Turning in the seat to stare at him, green eyes narrowed suspiciously "You've got a secret storage locker, don't you."

"I never said it was a storage locker. More like... an allotment." He kept his eyes forward as he steered out of the parking lot and onto the main road. "What? I'm from a family of antique dealers. He had a lot of antiques. It made sense at the time." He would not look at Quin, and tried to keep a straight face. "It was an evil face eating chinchilla though."

Quin rolled his eyes, giving a soft laugh as he sat normally in the passenger seat. "Yeah," he said, staring out the window. "Nearly ripped Matilda's face right off."

"With your bare hands, too," his partner added to the awkward silence.

"With those blighters, it's kill or be killed," Quin added. The mood lightened, if only for a brief while, as they rode on in silence.

_**o0o** _

Martha told him most of what had happened to her after they parted ways following the reality bomb incident. She assured him that the Ostarhargen key had been destroyed, and most of it had been dismantled safely. The remaining... she was not at liberty to say. Not even she knew where the remainder of it had gone. Only that it was no longer buried in the Earth's crust. She did, of course, leave certain events in her life out, knowing that for him they would come in time.

Jack regaled her with stories of a game he played with the Doctor that consisted of each man time hopping in order to pants the other, among other silly adventures that for him, only happened in the last five years.

He had been telling her of his vacation plans up until the point when he had been picked up off the nude beaches of Tellios 7 that ended in an unexpected tip to a stone lined prison cell.

Martha, at this point, silenced him by raising a hand, the other touching that pod at her ear once again. "Say again? Jack was speaking."

After a pause, she laughed lightly. "Sorry. Sorry. I meant the Captain. We'll need to find a way to distinguish between the two."

He watched her curiously as she spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Then, he looked past as a LED screen lit up in the space behind her. A face that had not been there when they had come into the room was illuminated by the light. Jack felt a minor pang of irritation that he had not noticed the arrival.

Martha finished her conversation and turned to Jack, seeing his attention had been diverted. "Jack. Earth to Jack." She leaned forward and snapped her fingers in his face. She finally got him to look at her.

"What?"

"Time to go. Your hotel's ready and I'm sure you'd love a proper lie down."

"I'm fine."

She stood and crossed her arms over her chest, speaking firmly as if to an insolent child. "You're not staying here all night."

"I can take care of myself."

"It's not you I'm worried about." Martha glanced over her shoulder and gave a shout. "Murdoch, we're heading out. You've got Watchtower until Oh-six-hundred."

"Yes Madame," the expressionless face replied from his position at what was normally an unmanned station.

She gave a nod. "As for you, Captain, don't bother with him. Metal frame. Heart of tin. Not like it's ever stopped you before but..."

He flashed her a cheeky grin. "I didn't even get a chance to say hello yet."

A line of ivory broke through the stern expression she tried so hard to hold. Shaking her head, she turned towards a wall of stone. With each step towards it, metal panels emerged, the stone seeming to fade into the shining metal. The panels parted, revealing one more elevator. "Come on Captain. I need sleep and you smell like... Well honestly, I'd rather stand next to a weevil."

Jack had little option but to follow her. Once free from the world below, he was given the opportunity to watch out the window as Martha drove him herself. The skyline was so different from the last time he had seen it. As they crossed a bridge over one of the major roads out of the Warehouse District, he saw shanty towns along the bay where once restaurants and tourist traps had been. Then, bleak darkness where long ago the famed Millennium Centre had been standing tall, a shining beacon for a new millennium. It had lasted a mere nine years before Jack had blown it apart.

Then, just as quickly, the scene was gone, the bridge suddenly encased in stone and steel. They'd gone into a tunnel. New, like the shanty towns. They were riding along beneath part of the city.

"UNIT took control of Cardiff around a year after you left. The rift had opened and the refugees started coming through. The city was quarantined. No one in, no one out. By then, Gwen had already left and refused to return when we asked her for help. No one blamed her for turning her back. Not after what..." Martha shook her head with a sigh. The tunnel was long, longer than she'd remembered. But it was the quickest way through the city now. UNIT had at least ensured they could get their troops and equipment around efficiently during the occupation. "They've only recently released control. Five... No, six years ago now."

"So Torchwood just waltzed in. Same shit, different name."

She shook her head as they exited the tunnel. Returning to the world above and welcomed by the bright lights of a new district Jack did not remember having been built up. This area, to his knowledge, was still in development. Part of a revitalization campaign meant to bring big businesses. Instead.... hotels and casinos. Bars and strip clubs. Clearly, this was where anyone with money went, ignoring the run down city by the bay.

She pulled out front of a sky-rise just as two men had just climbed into a sporty little red number, vacating the curb and leaving the valet behind. "Here we are. Everything you need should be upstairs. Front desk will get you sorted."

He scoffed at her blind faith. As if he wouldn't suddenly take off and leave. There was nothing to stop him from running. Nothing to keep him tethered to this rock. Already Jack had started to plan his escape. He cared for his old friend and companion, but that alone was not enough to keep him there. Until-

"Jack," Martha said, catching his sleeve before he could climb out of the car. "Stay. I need you. We need you."

"I can't Martha."

She considered for a moment. If what Jack had shared with her of his adventures since leaving Earth were accurate, then she knew he was in a vulnerable state. Still broken by what he had been forced to do. By what he had lost. There was only one last piece to put into place. She knew what it was, of course she knew.

But was it her place to tell him? To influence events and manipulate him to ensure... Martha gave a mental sigh. So this is what it was like to be the Doctor. In the end, she came to her decision. "Wait," she said. Her other hand reaching across him for the glove compartment. A light pull with her fingers and it opened. Inside, a slender stick. "Take that with you."

"Martha-"

"Jack, please. I've been holding onto this for over 10 years. Since I left UNIT. Take it and at least stay the night. If you still want to leave in the morning, you have my word no one will stop you. I'll have you on the first ship off Earth." He looked at her face in the light of the hotel's street side lights. Brown eyes imploring him, fingers tightening on his sleeve, silently begging him to change his mind. He leaned in close, and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "One night," he said softly after moving his lips closer to her ear. "Only tonight. Tomorrow, I'm gone."

"Understood," she said, willing her voice not to crack. She released his sleeve. He took the stick from the glove compartment, and was gone. A valet closed the car door as she closed the glove compartment. She knew she did not have it in her to force Jack to stay. She knew she did not have the power to change his mind. There was only one man alive who had that power...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the nature of the original version of this fic, the next few chapters will be updated here on AO3 first before I post them to the original over on Fanfiction.net. The format of the original version is... awkward and I'll have to replace the original versions of chapters 4-8 in one bulk update.  
> As such, AO3 gets to see them as they get finished.


	5. Chapter 5

 

She couldn't sleep.

Too many things nagged at her. Too many empty holes in her knowledge and information. Eddie lay asleep on the sofa, drugged out of his gourd after they had arrived home. She watched him from her place at the table, grateful for once that had had pushed her to get an apartment with an open floor plan after all.

It meant she could sit watch over him as she worked.

The pages and photographs she had pulled from the book lay spread out before her. An attempt to piece them together was made, but she had yet to find any truly solid clues. Instead, she resorted to one of Eddie's computer programs. His personal server in the apartment was separate from those at the base. His personal system had been pieced together from scraps and old software from the archives. Things he'd gathered before his forced recruitment into Torchwood.

So, she'd scanned the photographs. She'd scanned the pages. And let the computer do what it could.

Now, she waited as it crawled through the data. In one hand, she held a tumbler of scotch. In the other, a photograph that had been both alien and familiar to her at the same time. Her parents smiling faces, her mother's pristine white dress stained black with some sort of, she assumed, alien byproduct. But the obvious differences were not what she focused on now. No, it was the background she studied. The face of the man from the rift. Slightly blurred, but visible enough to know it was the same man. The edge of the photograph was singed. Someone, or something, had tried to destroy the book at one time. It may have been an accident. It may have been on purpose.

She sipped from her glass, then set it on the table. Her eyes never left that photograph as she scrutinized every last detail. There, just at the man's elbow... Just barely visible beyond her mother's veil. Part of another person. Who at her mother's wedding knew the naked rift man? And who sat there beside him? Man or woman?

Eddie groaned from the sofa, jerking her from her thoughts. The photograph was set down beside the glass, forgotten for now as she stood to tend to him.

She crouched beside the sofa, gently stroking his sweating forehead with a frown as he opened his eyes and saw her. He settled back down. "It's alright Eds. You're home. You're safe. I've got you."

He gave a tired, weak smile. "You look like hell, fretting over me like this."

She gave a crooked, slightly gap toothed smile. "Yeah, well. Someone's got to look out for you. End up near dead when I leave you to yourself." She knocked gently on the plaster-like casing he wore. She continued to stroke his forehead. "Do you need another painkiller?"

He nodded. "Crush it first, then mix it with the water. Hits the bloodstream faster."

"This'll have to be the last one for the night."

"Just enough to let me sleep," he said, his voice almost pleading with her to just shut up and give it to him. "Promise. I won't get up for more. Just... it hurts Mats. I can't stand this."

"You should have said something sooner. When we got back to base that night."

"You were so tired-"

"It's my job to take care of you." She stood, not wanting to let him see her face more than necessary. She could not allow him to see the tears welling up in her eyes. Could not let him see her weakness. Quickly, his pain medication was prepared, a crazy straw added to the cup with a forced smile. An old joke between them. She helped him drink it down. Every drop, before helping him maneuver on the sofa to get more restful sleep.

"Thanks, Mats," he said, closing his eyes and trying to get back to sleep. She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before brushing a bit of unruly brown hair out of his face.

"It's what sisters are for, you big dummy."

_**o0o** _

The door burst open, shoes kicked off, and a coat thrown over the back of a nearby chair as the lanky form crossed the room. "FINALLY!" he exclaimed as he did all of this. Socked feet stepped right up onto a coffee table, whereupon he spun around and dropped backward onto an overstuffed sofa.

The door was closed after the second man entered the apartment. Keys were placed on a hook near the door. Shoes slipped off and left on the tile before socked feet stepped onto the soft carpet. "Don't walk on the table."

"But-"

"You're going to break it."

"I-"

"And fix us something to eat. I'm starving." With that, the second man crossed the room and slipped into the bowels of the apartment. Soon, a large golden retriever bounded out from the hallway, jumping onto the sofa beside the first man, licking his arm and his face. He tried desperately to keep her from toppling him.

"Told you to eat something when we were at the shop!" he shouted once he was able to get the dog to stop. He groaned, got up from his spot, and shuffled towards the kitchen anyway.

Kibble for the dog was set out, and she ate it greedily. Water started for hot tea with the push of a button as he passed by the kettle. Food... food was another story. Quickly two sandwiches were made and left on a small table at the end of the kitchen. The breakfast nook which, more often than not, served as a makeshift workstation when one or both men were home.

"I was hoping for something hot," Quin said, sliding into one side of the booth seat of the nook. "But this is fine."

"It'll have to be. Not much left in the fridge." Two hot steaming cups were set on the table before his companion slid in the opposite end of the booth to join him. They are in silence, too tired to bicker. Too tired to do much of anything, really. It wasn't until they had begun sipping the hot tea that they had begun to relax. Hunger giving way to temporary contentment.

Neither man wanted to broach the subject that would need to be discussed before they went back to work. But it did need to be discussed. Finally, with only a few sips left of his tea, Quin sighed. "How are we going to explain it to him?"

"Explain what?"

"Don't be deliberately obtuse. Me. How are we going to explain me? I can't hide from him the entire time. He'll figure out something is up."

He shrugged. "Dunno what we'll do. I don't have a clue what's going on or how this plays out. He never said. None of them did." He set his cup down on the table, but left his hands wrapped around it. "You are the fly in the ointment... But Martha and I have come up with an explanation."

"And?" Green eyes searched his face, his mannerisms. "What was decided?"

"I don't know. It depends on if Jack shows up tomorrow."

"What do you mean-"

"Look. She knows, but she won't tell me. Says it's better that I don't know. More... authentic I think she said. Hell, I don't know. Whatever she's come up with, I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

Quin put his hand on his arm, letting it slide down to the elbow. "I hope you're right, Jack."

"James," he said. "Can't have two of us at the office. Or John... Yeah. It's been a while since I've been John. UNIT always liked me as John."

"The others won't like it."

"Tough shit," he replied. "Don't worry, eye-candy." He smirked, letting go of his cup and putting a hand over Quin's. "You can still call me whatever you like." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, _**Sir**_ , I would be more than happy to. Unfortunately my boss had me out all night running errands and I'm just far too tired to bother doing much else."

James chuckled. "Yeah, your boss sounds like a real prick."

Quin let go of his arm and slid out of the booth seat to round the table and began to clean up after them. James caught him by the wrist, feeling his pulse beneath his fingers. "But I know he'd be lost as hell without you."

_**o0o** _

Jack sat a long time before he showered, and a long time still after. The suite was far more than he had expected. Martha had put him up in what amounted to a small apartment. Maybe she anticipated, or hoped, he would stay. The stick sat on top of a box. Left unopened and untouched in his exploration of his rooms. A note had been attached. Short and sweet. It simply said "Captain Jack Harkness" in carefully printed handwriting.

Handwriting that was familiar, save for a slight slant to the right. Indication that the writer had been left handed.

At last, he rose and snatched up the stick. He turned it over in his hands wondering what he should do with it. Looking it over for any indication of what he should do with it. There were no computers to plug it into. No television to convert to a data screen. "What are you?" he said, about to set it back down on the box.

It was then he felt it. A slight prick in his finger. Dropping it quickly back to the table next to the box, he stepped back. A series of lights on one side came to life. Then ticked down until they were one single dot at the end.

Words scrolled across another side. **Loading...** Then it split apart. Jack edged closer as it separated. Thin metal bars extending out to turn the stick into a rectangle. Then the empty space in the center lit up. Red, then a soft pastel blue.

_"You can pick it up. It won't bite a second time."_

He looked down at it. The face that stared back at him was all too familiar. A few more wrinkles here and there, but not too bad to look at. Then again he did have a bias. He did pick it up, and stared at the translucent screen as the man stared back at him. "You look good for an old man."

_"I know you do."_ The face paused. _"No, I can't hear you. Got the idea from Martha. Will get. Doesn't matter. Look, I'm not going to lie. It's about to get weird. Really weird. But everything depends on what's going to happen next."_

He was about to speak, but the face smirked back at him and spoke again. _"If you run, they will find you and drag you back to Earth again. There's no running from this Jack._ _Earth needs you._ _Torchwood_ _needs you_ _. Martha told you as much as she can. But she didn't tell you about the team. Doesn't know how. So."_ A picture appeared in the corner of the screen. Then it enlarged. It was... Gwen. _"This is Matilda. Mattie for short. Last time you saw her, she wasn't born yet. England born, but has that Welsh temper. Ex cop, like her mother. Speaking of, Gwen's fine. Don't go looking for her. Trust me. That's a bad time."_

Jack watched as the photograph was replaced by another. A young man wearing welding glasses and sitting at a computer station with a mini blow torch. _"Edward. Call him Eddie. Matilda's younger brother. He's... complicated. Works for Torchwood because the alternative is a life sentence in Stormcage. I never asked why. I don't want to know why. All I know is that it involved a newt, a cloning machine, and accidental time travel. Don't poke that beast."_

Jack's own older face replaced the photograph of the young man. The real Jack, the present Jack frowned. _"Are you sitting down? You're going to want to sit down for this."_

Jack was sitting. Hadn't realized he'd sat down while watching the video play out. The audio of the video shifted some as digital Jack's attention was taken away momentarily. Muffled voices. _"Did you check out back?..... No I don't know where he put it. Try_ _the kid's_ _room.... Well if it's not there we don't have it."_ Video Jack rubbed his temple in frustration. The video cut out briefly as he heard his own raised voice shouting at someone in a language he didn't quite understand. Then, just as suddenly, the other Jack had returned. A black eye healing right in front of him.

_"Right now, you're wondering why that happened. You'll find out. In the meantime, here's this."_ He looked down. The clacking of keys before another photograph appeared in the corner. It grew larger, but half of it had been blurred out. A young man in a police cadet's uniform. _"Kid has a mean left hook. Here's where it gets weird Jack. This is... let's call him James. Friends call him Jack. He's... Well...."_

He could hear the older him sigh, as if trying to collect his thoughts. _"He's a long story you'll find out in 200 years. For now, the best I can do is just say good luck. He's got a mean left hook and a temper. He's going to be rough on you and you won't know why. You're meeting out of order right now. The next time he's going to see you... me... it'll be the last time. And we won't remember it. Never will. I only know because Martha told me it happened."_ Jack could hear the frustration, mixed with sadness in his voice. He didn't know what to make of it.

_"By now, you're still wanting to leave. You need one more reason to stay. And I hate to do this to myself, but it's the only way I know you'll stick around to help them. Help save the Earth one more time."_ The rest of the picture sharpened.

Jack's breath caught in his throat. He had no voice as he reached up to touch the face of the man at the cadet's side. His fingers touching only air as they passed through the screen. "Ianto..." he whispered, watching as the picture was replaced by another. Then another of the two men together again. Smiling. Laughing together.

_"That is not him, Jack. Looks like him. Acts a little like him. But it's not him. It's not Ianto. Twenty-four years old, he was grown in a lab in Beijing for black market value. Ianto's body was among those stolen from a UNIT morgue. This man is one of five known clones. Three were... destroyed. The fourth unknown. This one smuggled out by Mickey Smith and Martha Jones, causing her to leave UNIT. Due to her connections, she was given an honorable discharge despite disobeying direct orders to... destroy the clone."_

There was a sigh. _"I guess,"_ he said. _"You could say he is him. But he isn't._ _Same DNA, but h_ _e's had a different life."_

"All roads lead to Torchwood," Jack muttered. Closing his eyes as the voice stopped. Finally, he drew a deep breath and focused on the screen in his hand again. The pictures had been replaced by his own old, age lined face.

_"Jack. Everything in you is screaming for you to leave. And no one will stop you. But consider this... If there were a way to get him back, consequence free, would you take it? The Doctor told you_ _it's a fixed point in time. He died. You can't save him. Each time the Doctor tried, it made things worse until finally, he could try no more. But if you knew there was a way around it, would you take it? Because there is a way. There's always been a way._

_"I never gave up hope that I might figure it out. And I did. You will. Unfortunately... all roads lead to Torchwood. They always will. We can run. We can try to outlast the universe, but it won't matter. We always end up here, in Cardiff, watching this stupid video. And the only reason is because..."_

He held up a bracelet. _"This. A Gallifreyan time ring. One way trip. This is the undo button. The one item in all the universe that even the TARDIS can't circumvent. Fixed points are odd. The only way to fight them is with another fixed point. That's what we are. Ianto's death is a fixed point. We're a fixed point. This ring is our lifeline. It's the only thing that can cancel one or the other out."_

Jack's heartbeat quickened, his breathing heavy. Fast.

_"All you have to do is save the Earth. Piece of cake."_

"What's the catch?"

The digital Jack smirked. _"The catch is... right now it doesn't work. It won't work unless it's fixed."_

Jack groaned. He spoke at the same time as the video version of his older self. "And it can only be fixed by a Time Lord."

_"Exactly. So, don't try to steal his companion and he'll be more than happy to fix it to get rid of you."_

Shouting in the background of the video again. Digital Jack growled in frustration and turned in his chair. _"Damn it Doc! Leave the dog alone!"_ Digital Jack faced the camera again. _"Good luck. You're going to need it."_

The screen cut out. The stick folded back into itself. And now it lay lifeless and cold in his hand.

Jack sat staring down at the object in disbelief. Clones.... okay, not unheard of. A Time Lord living on Earth as a human?... Unless it was a chameleon arch job, he didn't see that as a possibility. But there it was. This James person was one. He worked at Torchwood. With a clone. And the children of Gwen Cooper. All of which were commanded by Martha Jones.... Martha Milligan now. The odds for coincidence were far too high. It felt like a trap. It smelled like a trap.

But the pay out for him... the possibility, the hope...

If it were a promise made by anyone else. Even a promise from the pompous pinstriped Doctor himself, he'd have no problem turning his back a second time. Leaving Earth, and the time zone indefinitely if he could. He'd fight whatever threads of fate were tethering him to this graveyard. But...

**"Son of a bitch."**

The only person Jack could count on, had ever truly counted on. The only constant in his life, and even then sometimes he was still fuzzy on the details. But the only person who would not, could not ever lie to him had been himself. But now? An unknown Time Lord in charge of Torchwood. A clone of his dead lover as the Time Lord's companion. Gwen Cooper's kids neck deep in the shit of it all. And Martha, sweet Martha, the Nightingale of his year long nightmare... Distant and closed to him. Keeping secrets that no doubt the older version, the video version had ensured she keep. She had come into possession of the data stick a decade ago. Who, or what, had given it to her? If she hadn't seen him in almost 25 years... Or she lied. It wouldn't be the first time, so long as it was for the greatest of all good.

He carefully picked apart the information he had gained. The easiest to deal with at the moment was Martha. Martha lied to him. Why should she lie? Under what circumstances did she ever lie? To protect him? No. The Doctor?.. Yes, but she wouldn't lie to her friends for him. Especially if they knew him. No, Martha Jones only ever lied to protect the Earth. To protect it from something long enough for the cavalry to arrive. For the plan to be kicked off. Martha Jones was stalling.

But for what purpose? For who?

He clutched the data stick in his hand, looking down at it as the realization set in. There had never been anyone he would listen to about anything. No one in all of time and space that knew what buttons to push and what cliffs to shove him off of in order to make him do things he'd rather not do. Dangle just the right bait, and Jack would always bite.

"If I ever meet myself, I'm going to punch myself in the face," he muttered to the empty room.

_**o0o** _

She woke to the sound of automated birdsong. Her phone sat on the table between the bottle of scotch and a steaming cup of coffee. Vibrating obnoxiously at her and chirping. "Who the bloody fuck changed my ring-tone?" she grumbled. Blearily she reached between the two containers, knocking over the bottle in the process, to hit the button on her phone, attempting to ignore the call.

Instead, her finger had slipped and she'd answered it. _"Bloody hell girl, finally you answer. It's only been two months."_

She sat up straight at the table, her mother's voice doing what no cup of inferior home brew coffee ever could. Waking her up so completely, with her heart pounding in her chest. "I..... Uh..... Mum! So good to hear from you." She tried to put as much enthusiasm as she could into her voice, wincing as she did with hangover. "Wh-"

_"We haven't seen you in two months. Your brother in three. It's your father's birthday tomorrow. Or are you busy with work... Again."_

"Well..."

It was then her brother came up behind her. "Hullo mum. Mattie's got the time off, actually."

_"And what about you young man? Three months and not even an e-mail."_

He awkwardly sat in the chair to his sister's right. "Sorry. I'm packing for Australia tonight. The firm's sending me to their Queensland office to set up the new systems. I would if I could. I'll send dad a didgeridoo shall I?" He stuck his tongue out at his sister before sipping his own coffee. He set it down, listened to his sister try to talk her way out of a visit to London on her time off, and slid his computer closer to have a look at what she had been doing all night.

He examined the data as Matilda finally agreed to visit. Her mother had fought for her daughter's entire time off from work. But Matilda was firm. Her parents would get her for the evening, the night, all of the next morning, and some of her afternoon. But she needed to get back before the evening was over as she had an appointment for a speaking engagement at a local grade school.

The lie made Eddie cringe as he heard it, and he was nearly as grateful as she when the call ended. "And now you know why I route her calls to a computer help line in China."

"The least you could do sometimes is pick up the bloody phone."

"Hey, you're the one who thought it'd be a good idea for my cover story to be a jet-setting computer systems analyst for a top financial firm on the Continent. Not my fault you insisted on telling her you're just taking a quiet constable job in the country." He sipped his coffee again. "Now what's up with this bloke? The one we picked up yeah?"

"Yeah." She picked up her coffee and took a greedy gulp. It wasn't as good as the dispenser from work, but it was better than nothing for her banging head. "From what I can figure, Captain Jack Harkness."

"No.... No really?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Former leader of Torchwood Jack Harkness? As in Earth's last line of defense against the 456?! Like, the guy that took down a rift beast single-handed and rose from the dead like fucking Jesus Christ _**Jack Harkness**_?!" With each claim, he became more and more excited until finally, his sister nodded.

"For fuck's sake! What the hell is he doing running around naked in run down shopping malls after dark? _**Shagging weevils**_?!"


End file.
